Morua biography. Online reading of the book Letters to a Stranger by Andre Maurois

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André Maurois

Letters to a stranger

LETTRES A L'INCONNUE

Letters to a stranger

You exist, and yet you are not. When a friend of mine suggested that I write to you once a week, I mentally drew an image of you. I created you beautiful - both in face and in mind. I knew that you would not be slow to emerge alive from my dreams and begin to read my messages, and answer them, and tell me everything that the author longs to hear.

From the very first day, I gave you a certain look - the look of an extremely beautiful and young woman that I saw in the theater. No, not on stage - in the hall. None of those who were with me knew her. Since then, you have gained eyes and lips, a voice and become, but, as befits, you still remained a Stranger.

Two or three of my letters appeared in the press, and, as expected, I began to receive answers from you. Here "you" is a collective person. You are many different strangers: one is naive, the other is absurd, and the third is a minx and a mocker. I was impatient to start a correspondence with you, but I restrained myself: you had to remain all, it was impossible for you to become one.

You reproach me for my restraint, for my invariable sentimental moralism. But what can you do? And the most patient of people will remain faithful to a stranger only on the condition that one day she opens up to him. Merimee quickly learned that his stranger's name was Jenny Daken, and soon he was allowed to kiss her lovely legs. Yes, our idol must have both legs and everything else, because we get tired of contemplating the incorporeal goddess.

I promised that I would continue this game as long as I derive pleasure from it. More than a year has passed, I put an end to our correspondence, there were no objections. An imaginary break is not difficult at all. I will keep a wonderful, unclouded memory of you. Farewell.

A. M.

About one meeting

That evening I was not alone at the Comédie Francaise. “They gave only Molière,” but with great success. The mistress of Iran laughed heartily; Robert Kemp seemed to be in bliss; Paul Leotaut drew attention to himself.

The lady sitting next to us whispered to her husband: “I’ll tell Aunt Clemence by phone that I saw Leoto, she will be delighted.”

You sat in front, wrapped in fox furs, and, as in Musset's time, a picked up “black braid on a marvelous flexible neck” swayed in front of me. During the intermission, you leaned over to your friend and asked animatedly: “How to become loved?” I, in turn, wanted to bend down to you and answer with the words of one of Molière's contemporaries: “To please others, you need to talk with them about what pleases them and what interests them, evade disputes about unimportant subjects, rarely ask questions and in no way case, do not let them suspect that it is possible to be more reasonable than they are.

Here are the advice of a man who knew people! Yes, if we want to be loved, we need to talk to others about something other than what matters. us, but about what takes them. What occupies them? They are themselves. We will never get bored of a woman if we start talking to her about her character and beauty, if we ask her about childhood, about tastes, about what makes her sad. You will also never bore a man if you ask him to talk about himself. How many women have earned themselves the fame of skillful listeners! However, there is no need to listen, it is enough just to pretend that you are listening.

"Avoid arguing about unimportant subjects." Arguments, stated in a sharp tone, infuriate the interlocutor. Especially when the truth is on your side. “Every sensible remark hurts,” said Stendhal. Your interlocutor may have to admit the irrefutability of your arguments, but he will never forgive you for this. In love, a man strives not for war, but for peace. Blessed are the tender and meek women, they will be loved more. Nothing infuriates a man like the aggressiveness of a woman. Amazons are deified, but not adored.

Another, quite worthy way to please is to speak flatteringly about people. If this is told to them, it will give them pleasure and they will feel good for you in return.

I don’t like Madame de ... - someone said.

What a pity! And she finds you simply charming and tells everyone she meets about it.

Really? .. It turns out that I was mistaken about her.

The reverse is also true. One caustic phrase, moreover, retold unkindly, generates worst enemies. “If we all knew everything that is said about all of us, no one would talk to anyone.” The trouble is that sooner or later everyone will find out what everyone says about everyone.

To return to La Rochefoucauld: "On no account let them suspect that it is possible to be more intelligent than they are." Isn't it possible to love and admire someone at the same time? Of course, it is possible, but only if he does not express his superiority with arrogance and it is balanced by small weaknesses that allow others in turn to patronize him. The smartest man I knew, Paul Valéry, showed his intelligence with great ease. He clothed deep thoughts in a playful form; he had both childishness and cute pranks, which made him unusually charming. Another smartest person and serious, and important, but still amuses friends with his unconscious arrogance, absent-mindedness or quirks. They forgive him for being talented, because he can be funny; and you will be forgiven for being beautiful, because you keep yourself simple. A woman will never get tired of even a great man if she remembers that he is also a man.

How to become loved? Giving those you want to captivate a good reason to be pleased with yourself. Love begins with a joyful feeling of one's own strength, combined with the happiness of another person. To like means both to give and to receive. That's what, stranger of my soul (as the Spaniards say), I would like to answer you. I will add one more - the last - advice, it was given by Merimee his to a stranger: “Never say anything bad about yourself. Your friends will do it." Farewell.

About the limits of tenderness

Paul Valéry spoke admirably of many things, and in particular of love; he liked to talk about passions in mathematical terms: he quite reasonably believed that the contrast between the precision of expressions and the elusiveness of feelings gives rise to a disturbing inconsistency. I especially liked one of his formulas, which I dubbed Valéry's theorem: "The amount of tenderness radiated and absorbed every day has a limit."

In other words, not a single person is able to live all day, and even more so for weeks or years, in an atmosphere of tender passion. Everything tires, even the fact that you are loved. It is useful to remind this truth, because many young people, as well as old people, apparently do not suspect it. The woman revels in the first delights of love; she is overwhelmed with joy when they tell her from morning to evening how pretty she is, how witty, what a bliss to have her, how wonderful her speeches are; she echoes these praises and assures her partner that he is the best and smartest man in the world, an incomparable lover, a wonderful conversationalist. Both of them are much more enjoyable. But what's next? The possibilities of the language are not unlimited. “At first, it is easy for lovers to talk to each other ... - said the Englishman Stevenson. “I am me, you are you, and all others are of no interest.”

You can repeat in a hundred ways: "I am me, you are you." But not a hundred thousand! And ahead - an endless string of days.

What is the name of such a marriage union, when a man is content with one woman? - a certain examiner asked an American student.

Monotonous, she replied.

So that monogamy does not turn into monotony, one must vigilantly monitor that tenderness and forms of its expression alternate with something else. A love couple should be refreshed by “winds from the sea”: communication with other people, general labor, spectacle. Praise touches, born as if by chance, involuntarily - from mutual understanding, shared pleasure; becoming an indispensable rite, it becomes boring.

Octave Mirbeau has a novella written in the form of a dialogue between two lovers who meet every evening in a park by the light of the moon. The sensitive lover whispers in a voice even softer than a moonlit night: "Look ... That is that bench, oh kind bench!" The beloved sighs in despair: “This bench again!” Let us beware of benches that have become places of worship. Tender words that appear and pour out at the very moment of manifestation of feelings are charming. Tenderness in hardened expressions is annoying.

Recognized as an unsurpassed author of biographies. But literary activity French writer is very rich and versatile. He wrote biographical novels and psychological novels, love stories and travel essays, philosophical essays and fantasy stories. But no matter what genre his books belong to, the harmony of the language of the writer Maurois, clarity of thought, perfection of style, subtle irony and fascinating narration captivate readers forever.

Biography of the writer

Emile Erzog, known to readers as Andre Maurois, was born into a family of industrialists in Normandy, near Rouen, in 1885. His father was the owner of a textile factory, where Andre himself later worked as an administrator. The writer's childhood was serene: wealthy parents, friendly family, respect and attention from adults. Later, the author wrote that it was this that formed in him tolerance for other people's opinions, a sense of personal and civic duty.

As a child, he read a lot. His love for Russian writers is especially noted, which did not fade until the last days of his life. He first began to write at the Rouen Lyceum, where he studied from 1897. Among the teachers of the future writer Morois was the philosopher Alain, who had a significant impact on the worldview of the young man. Having received a licentiate degree, Andre still preferred to study family business which he has been doing for about ten years. After the death of his father, Morois refused to run the family business and devoted himself entirely to his literary career.

War years

During the First World French writer Morois served as a liaison officer, after which he worked in the editorial office of the Croix-de-Fee magazine. Morois participated in and at the beginning of World War II served in the French army. Thanks to the connections of his second wife, in particular to Marshal Pétain, in 1938 Maurois was elected chairman of the prestigious French Academy and held this chair for almost thirty years.

After the occupation of France by the Nazis, he moved with his family to the United States, returning to his native country in 1946. In 1947, the writer legalized his pseudonym. He died in the suburbs of Paris and was buried in the cemetery of Neuilly-sur-Seine.

Personal life

In 1909, in Geneva, the writer André Maurois met the daughter of a Polish count, Zhanna Shimkevich, who became his first wife and the mother of his two sons and daughter Michelle. The daughter became a writer, she wrote a trilogy based on many family letters. In 1918, Janine, the writer's wife, suffered a nervous breakdown, and in 1924 she died of sepsis.

In the autumn of the same year, after the publication of the book Dialogues sur le commandement, he was invited to dinner by Marshal Pétain. Here the writer meets Simone de Kailavet, daughter of the playwright Gaston Armand and granddaughter of Madame Armand, owner of a fashionable literary salon and muse of the writer Anatole France. The wedding of Simone and André took place in 1926.

literary heritage

The French writer André Maurois left a rich literary heritage. Despite the fact that he began to write quite early, he published his novels only in 1935. Maurois collected them in the book First Stories. This also included the short story "The Birth of a Celebrity", written by the writer in 1919. The difference between semi-childish stories and this novella is striking.

He published his first book, The Silence of Colonel Bramble, based on his memoirs of the First World War, in 1918. Morois was very demanding of himself, which partly explains the success that his first novel brought. It is difficult to name a genre to which the writer would remain indifferent. Among his legacy are historical studies, romanized biographies, sociological essays, novels for children, psychological novels and literary essays.

Books by André Maurois

Memories and experiences gained in the First World War formed the basis of two books by the writer Maurois: The Silence of Colonel Bramble, published in 1918, and The Speeches of Dr. O'Grady, published in 1921. AT post-war years writer creates psychological novels:

in 1926 "Bernard Quesnay" was published;
in 1928, The Vicissitudes of Love was published;
in 1932, the Family Circle saw the light;
in 1934 - "Letters to a stranger";
in 1946 - a collection of stories "Promised Land";
in 1956 - "September Roses".

The writer's Peru owns a trilogy of the life of English romantics, which was later published under the general title "Romantic England". It included: the book "Ariel" published in 1923, in 1927 and 1930, respectively, "The Life of Disraeli" and "Byron" were published. Literary portraits French writers compiled four books:

1964 - "From La Bruyère to Proust";
1963 - "From Proust to Camus";
1965 - "From Gide to Sartre";
1967 - "From Aragon to Monterlane".

A master of the biographical genre, Morois is the author of books about great people, in which, based on accurate biographical data, he draws their living images:

1930 - "Byron";
1931 - "Turgenev";
1935 - "Voltaire";
1937 - "Edward VII";
1938 - "Chateaubriand";
1949 - "Marcel Proust";
1952 - "George Sand";
1955 - "Victor Hugo";
1957 - "Three Dumas";
1959 - "Alexander Fleming";
1961 - "The Life of Madame de Lafayette";
1965 - "Balzac".

The writer Maurois is the author of scientific and journalistic books: this is the History of England, published in 1937, the History of the United States was published in 1943, and the History of France in 1947. creative heritage the writer is huge: he owns more than two hundred books and thousands of articles. The collected works of the writer were published in the early 50s in sixteen volumes.

The indisputable quality of Andre Maurois as a writer is a refined psychologism, which is clearly manifested in his works. I would like to finish the article with his words, which sound like a testament to contemporaries: “The artist is obliged to make such an incomprehensible real world understandable. Readers look for high spiritual values and new powers in books. Our duty is to help the reader see a HUMAN in every person.”

The real name of the person whom readers around the world know as André Maurois, – Emil Salomon Wilhelm Erzog. This is a famous French writer, literary critic, historian; he is recognized consummate master writing biographies famous people in the form of a novel. Creative alias after some time it became his official name.

Morois was born in Elphebe, a town near Rouen, on July 26, 1885. His family were Alsatian Jews who converted to the Catholic faith, moved to Normandy after 1871 and became French subjects. In 1897, Andre was a student at the Rouen Lyceum, at the age of 16 he became the owner of a licentiate degree. After completing his studies at the Lyceum, he enters the University of Cannes. Almost simultaneously, his career path begins: the young man gets a job at his father's factory and works there as an administrator during 1903-1911.

When the first broke World War, André Maurois took part in the hostilities as a liaison officer and military translator. The impressions received in the war helped Morois try his hand at the literary field and became the basis for his first novel, The Silent Colonel Bramble. After its publication in 1918, Maurois learned what success was, and his fame immediately went beyond the borders of his native country, the work was warmly received in Great Britain and America.

After the end of the war, André Maurois worked at the editorial office of the Croix de Feu magazine. Inspired by the success of his first novel, the aspiring writer dreamed not of a magazine career, but of a professional literary career. Already in 1921, his new novel, The Speeches of Dr. O'Grady, saw the light of day. When his father died, Morois, having sold the production, from 1925 gave all his strength to the creation literary works. For 20-30 years. he wrote a trilogy about the lives of the famous English representatives of romanticism - Shelley, Disraeli and Byron. He also wrote a number of other novels. On June 23, 1938, a significant event took place in the life of Maurois: his literary merits were recognized by his election to the French Academy.

When the Second World War began, the writer volunteered for the active French army, served with the rank of captain; then he was 54 years old. When France was occupied by Nazi troops, Maurois moved to the United States, where he worked as a teacher at the University of Kansas. 1943 was marked by a departure to North Africa; homecoming took place in 1946. During this period, Maurois wrote the book In Search of Marcel Proust (1949), collections of short stories.

The writer worked to a ripe old age. In the year of his 80th birthday, he wrote a novel, which became in a series biographical works the last - "Prometheus, or the Life of Balzac" (1965). Literally a few days before his death, the last point was put in his memoirs.

The contribution of Andre Maurois to national literature is truly great - two hundred books, as well as more than a thousand articles. He was a multi-genre writer, from his pen came out not only the biographies of great people that glorified him, but also fantastic short stories, psychological stories, novels, philosophical essays, historical writings, popular science writings. Morois was elected an honorary doctor of the Oxford and Edinburgh universities, was a Knight of the Legion of Honor (1937). Led by a writer and quite active public life, was included in several public organizations, collaborated with publications of a democratic orientation.

Death overtook André Maurois in his own house, located in one of the suburbs of Paris, October 9, 1967.

Biography from Wikipedia

Andre Maurois(fr. André Maurois, real name Emil Salomon Wilhelm Erzog, Émile-Salomon-Wilhelm Herzog, 1885-1967), French writer and member of the French Academy. Subsequently, the pseudonym became his official name.

Master of the genre of novelized biography (books about Shelley, Byron, Balzac, Turgenev, George Sand, Dumas the father and Dumas the son, Hugo) and a short ironic psychological story. Among the main works of Morois are the psychological novels The Vicissitudes of Love (1928), The Family Circle (1932), the book Memoirs (published in 1970) and embodied all the charm of the subtle, ironic talent of the writer Letters to a Stranger (Lettres à l'inconnue", 1956).

He came from a wealthy family of Jews who converted to Catholicism from Alsace, who after 1871 chose French citizenship and moved to Normandy. In 1897, Emil Erzog entered the Rouen Lyceum. At the age of sixteen he was awarded a licentiate degree. On the advice of one of his teachers, Emile Chartier, after completing the course, instead of continuing his studies at Ecole, Normal entered an employee at his father's cloth factory. During the First World War he served as a military translator and liaison officer. In 1918, Maurois published the novel The Silent Colonel Bramble (French: Les Silences du colonel Bramble), which was successfully received both in France and in Great Britain and the USA. In 1921, the novel The Speeches of Dr. O'Grady (French: Discours du docteur O'Grady) was published. After the war, he worked as an employee of the editorial office of the Croix-de-feu magazine. June 23, 1938 was elected to the French Academy.

Member of the French Resistance.

During the outbreak of World War II, Morois serves as a captain in the French army. After the occupation of France by German troops, he left for the United States. Worked as a lecturer at the University of Kansas. During this time he wrote biographies of Frédéric Chopin (1942), General Eisenhower (1945), Franklin (1945) and Washington (1946). In 1943, Morois left for North Africa, and in 1946 he returned to France.

Morois argued that "time spent with a woman cannot be called lost."

A family

Was married twice. The first marriage was Jeanne-Marie Wanda Shimkevich, from whom three children were born - Gerald (1920), Olivier and daughter Michelle (1914). Soon after early death first wife (1924) from sepsis entered into a second marriage with Simon Cayave, granddaughter of Leontine Armand de Cayyave (née Lippmann), mistress of Anatole France. Relations with his second wife were relatively free, for some time Morois lived separately from her, and his wife knew that he had other mistresses.

Editions in Russian

Morua A. Three Dumas. - M.: Young Guard, 1962. - 544 p. 1965 ("ZhZL").
Morua A. The life of Alexander Fleming. Per. from fr. I. Ehrenburg, after I. Kassirsky M .: Young Guard, 1964. - 336 p. ("ZhZL").
Morua A. Prometheus, or the Life of Balzac. - M.: Progress, 1967. - 640 p.
Morua A. George Sand. - M.: Young Guard, 1968. - 416 p. ("ZhZL").
Morua A. Paris. - M.: Art, 1970. - ("Cities and museums of the world").
Morua A. From Montaigne to Aragon / Per. from fr. Comp. and foreword. F. S. Narkiriera. Comm. S. N. Zenkina. Ed. Z. V. Fedotova. - M.: Raduga, 1983. - 678 p.
Morua A. The vicissitudes of love. Three novels. Letters to a stranger. - Minsk: Mastatskaya literature, 1988. - 351 p.
Morua A. Byron. - M.: Young Guard, 2000. - 422 p. ("ZhZL").
Morua A. France. - St. Petersburg: B. S. G.-Press, 2007. - 272 p.
Morua A. Holland. - St. Petersburg: B. S. G.-Press, 2007. - 224 p.-7.
Morua A. History of France. - St. Petersburg: Humanitarian Academy, 2008. - 352 p.
Morua A. Three Dumas. - M.: AST, AST Moscow, VKT, 2010. - 512 p.-6-2.
Morua A. Olympio, or the Life of Victor Hugo. - M.: Russia-Cyrillic, 1992. - 528 p.
Morua A. Prometheus, or the Life of Balzac. - M.: Raduga, 1983. - 672 p.
Morua A. Open letter young man about the science of living
Morua A. Life of Disraeli. - M.: Politizdat, 1991. - 254 p.
Morua A. September roses. - St. Petersburg: ABC. 2015 - 220 p.

LETTRES A L'INCONNUE

Heritiers André Maurois, Anne-Mary Charrier, Marseille, France, 2006

Translation. Y. Lesyuk, 2015

Edition in Russian AST Publishers, 2015

Letters to a stranger

From the very first day, I gave you a certain look - the look of an extremely beautiful and young woman that I saw in the theater. No, not on the stage - in the hall. None of those who were with me knew her. Since then, you have gained eyes and lips, a voice and become, but, as befits, you still remained a Stranger.

A. M.

About one meeting

The lady sitting next to us whispered to her husband: “I’ll tell Aunt Clemence by phone that I saw Leoto, she will be delighted.”

Here are the advice of a man who knew people! Yes, if we want to be loved, we need to talk to others not about what interests us, but about what interests them. What occupies them? They are themselves. We will never get bored of a woman if we start talking to her about her character and beauty, if we ask her about childhood, about tastes, about what makes her sad. You will also never bore a man if you ask him to talk about himself. How many women have earned themselves the fame of skillful listeners! However, there is no need to listen, it is enough just to pretend that you are listening.

Another, quite worthy way to please is to speak flatteringly about people. If this is told to them, it will give them pleasure and they will feel good for you in return.

“I don’t like Madame de…” someone was saying.

- What a pity! And she finds you simply charming and tells everyone she meets about it.

- Really? .. It turns out that I was mistaken about her.

The reverse is also true. One caustic phrase, moreover, retold unkindly, gives rise to the worst enemies. “If we all knew everything that is said about all of us, no one would talk to anyone.” The trouble is that sooner or later everyone will find out what everyone says about everyone.

To return to La Rochefoucauld: "On no account let them suspect that it is possible to be more intelligent than they are." Isn't it possible to love and admire someone at the same time? Of course, it is possible, but only if he does not express his superiority with arrogance and it is balanced by small weaknesses that allow others in turn to patronize him. The smartest man I knew, Paul Valéry, showed his intelligence with great ease. He clothed deep thoughts in a playful form; he had both childishness and cute pranks, which made him unusually charming. The other most intelligent person is both serious and important, and yet amuses his friends with his unconscious arrogance, absent-mindedness or whims. They forgive him for being talented, because he can be funny; and you will be forgiven for being beautiful, because you keep yourself simple. A woman will never get tired of even a great man if she remembers that he is also a man.

How to become loved? Giving those you want to captivate a good reason to be pleased with yourself. Love begins with a joyful feeling of one's own strength, combined with the happiness of another person. To like means both to give and to receive. That's what, stranger of my soul (as the Spaniards say), I would like to answer you. I will add one more - the last - advice, which Merimee gave to his stranger: “Never say anything bad about yourself. Your friends will do it." Farewell.

About the limits of tenderness

In other words, not a single person is able to live all day, and even more so for weeks or years, in an atmosphere of tender passion. Everything tires, even the fact that you are loved. It is useful to remind this truth, because many young people, as well as old people, apparently do not suspect it. The woman revels in the first delights of love; she is overwhelmed with joy when they tell her from morning to evening how pretty she is, how witty, what a bliss to have her, how wonderful her speeches are; she echoes these praises and assures her partner that he is the best and smartest man in the world, an incomparable lover, a wonderful conversationalist. Both of them are much more enjoyable. But what's next? The possibilities of the language are not unlimited. “At first, it’s easy for lovers to talk to each other ...,” said the Englishman Stevenson. “I am me, you are you, and all others are of no interest.”

You can repeat in a hundred ways: "I am me, you are you." But not a hundred thousand! And ahead - an endless string of days.

- What is the name of such a marriage union, when a man is content with one woman? a certain examiner asked an American student.

“Monotonous,” she replied.

So that monogamy does not turn into monotony, one must vigilantly monitor that tenderness and forms of its expression alternate with something else. A love couple should be refreshed by “winds from the sea”: communication with other people, common work, spectacles. Praise touches, born as if by chance, involuntarily - from mutual understanding, shared pleasure; becoming an indispensable rite, it becomes boring.

A woman who is aggressive and dissatisfied with everything quickly bothers a man; but even an undemanding woman, ingenuously admiring everything, will not retain her power over him for long. Contradiction? Of course. Man is made up of contradictions. The tide, then the tide. “He is condemned to constantly move from convulsions of anxiety to a stupor of boredom,” says Voltaire. Many representatives of the human race are so created that they easily get used to being loved and do not value the feeling of which they are too sure.

One woman doubted the feelings of a man and concentrated all her thoughts on him. She suddenly finds out that he loves her back. She is happy, but if he repeats day and night that she is perfection, she will probably get bored. Another man, not so accommodating, piques her curiosity. I knew a young girl who sang with pleasure in front of guests; she was very pretty, and therefore everyone praised her to the skies. Only one young man remained silent.

- Well, and you? she finally couldn't resist. - You don't like the way I sing?

- Oh, on the contrary! he replied. - If you also had a voice, it would be just wonderful.

It was for him that she married. Farewell.

About immutability human feelings

I'm back in the theater; this time, alas, you are not there. I am sorry for myself and for you. I want to shout: “Bravo, Roussin, what a glorious comedy!” One scene especially amused the audience. A young man rewarded his father's secretary with a child. He has no position, no money, she is smart and earns her own living. He proposes to her and is rejected. And then mother young father complains bitterly: "My poor boy, she seduced him and left him ... Compromised and refuses to cover the sin!"

Classic situation upside down. But these days, the economic relationships of both sexes are often, so to speak, turned inside out. Women earn much more than in the past. They are less dependent on the desires and whims of men. In the time of Balzac, it was difficult to think of something better than marriage, in the time of Roussin - this is another question. In The Immaculate by Philip Aria, a young girl turns to science with a request to help her give birth to a child without the help of a man.

In fact, science is still powerless to fulfill this unusual desire, although biologists have already embarked on very strange and dangerous experiments. In his book "Beautiful new world» Aldous Huxley tried to draw exactly how offspring will be born in a hundred years. In this best of all worlds, natural conception is excluded. Surgeons remove the woman's ovaries, they are stored in a proper environment and still produce eggs that are fertilized by insemination. One ovary can give birth to sixteen thousand brothers and sisters - groups of ninety-six twins.

Love? Attachment? Relationship romance? The rulers of the best of worlds have a deep contempt for this dilapidated rubbish. They feel sorry for the poor fellows from the 20th century who had fathers, mothers, husbands, lovers. In their opinion, there is nothing to be surprised that the people of the past were mad, vicious and insignificant. Family, passions, rivalry led to clashes, to complexes. Willy-nilly, the unfortunate ancestors were deeply worried about everything, and the constant sharpness of feelings prevented them from maintaining their peace of mind. "Facelessness, Similarity, Equanimity" - this is the triune motto of a world where there is no love.

Fortunately, this is just a fantasy, and humanity does not follow this path. Humanity generally changes much less than people think. It is like the sea: on the surface it seethes, worries, but it is worth plunging into the abyss of human souls - and there is the immutability of the most important human feelings.

What is our youth singing? The song of Prever and Cosmas: “When you think, when you think that your youth will last forever, oh girl, you are cruelly mistaken! ..” Where did this theme come from? From a poem by Ronsard, which is already four centuries old:

Eat the delights of youth!

Do not expect joy in old age:

Beauty will fade like a flower. Ronsard. "To Cassandra".

Almost all the motifs of the poets of the Pleiades or, say, Musset still resound today; on their basis, one could compose many songs for every taste for Saint-Germain-des-Pres. Play this game, it's simple, fun, and good for you. Stranger de mi alma My soul (Spanish)., you should decide on something. The arrogant secretary from Roussin's play eventually marries her "victim" and you are still a copy of your sisters from XVI century. Farewell.

About the necessary measure of coquetry

"Slander, sir! You just don’t understand what you decided to neglect,” says one of the characters in The Barber of Seville. It often tempts me to say to a woman who is too trusting and direct in love: “Coquetry, madam! You just don't understand what you're looking down on." Coquetry was and is an amazingly powerful and dangerous weapon. This set of skillful tricks, so carefully studied by Marivaux, consists of first captivating, then repelling, pretending to give something, and then taking it away. The results of this game are amazing. And even knowing in advance about all these traps, you still get caught.

If you think about it, it's quite natural. Without a slight coquetry that gives rise to the first timid hope, love does not wake up in most people. “To love is to feel excited at the thought of some possibility, which then develops into a need, an insistent desire, an obsession.” While it seems completely impossible for us to please such and such a man (or such and such a woman), we do not think about him (or about her). You are not tormented by the fact that you are not the Queen of England. Every man finds that Greta Garbo and Michelle Morgan are extremely beautiful, and admires them, but it never occurs to him to be killed by love for them. For their countless fans, they are just images living on the screen. And do not promise any opportunities.

But as soon as we take into account someone's gaze, smile, phrase, gesture, our imagination, against our will, already draws the possibilities hidden behind them. Has this woman given us a reason, however small, to hope? From this moment on, we are already in the grip of doubts. And we ask ourselves: “Is she really interested in me? How can she love me? Incredible. And yet her behavior ... "In short, as Stendhal used to say, we "crystallize" at the thought of her, in other words, in dreams we color her with all colors, just as salt crystals in the mines of Salzburg make all the objects that are placed there shimmer.

Little by little the desire turns into an obsession, into an obsession. A coquette who wants to prolong this obsession and “drive a man crazy” is enough to resort to the old human tactic: run away, making it clear before that that she has nothing against persecution, refuse, leaving, however, a glimmer of hope: “Perhaps tomorrow I'll be yours." And even then unlucky men will follow her even to the ends of the world.

These tricks are worthy of condemnation if a coquette uses them in order to unbalance numerous admirers. Such behavior will certainly make her nervous and deceive, unless she is damn clever and manages, without yielding to anyone, not to hurt the pride of men. But even the note coquette runs the risk of eventually exhausting the patience of its admirers. She, like Molière's Célimène, chasing several hares at once, ultimately catches none.

Since you can't happy side,

As I found everything in you, find everything in me, -

Goodbye forever! Like a heavy burden

With delight, I will finally throw off your chains. Molière. Sobr. op. in four volumes. M.: Art, 1965. T. 2. S. 394.

On the contrary, coquetry is completely innocent and even necessary if its purpose is to maintain the affection of the man you love. In this case, the woman deep down does not feel any desire to flirt. " The Greatest Miracle love in that it heals coquetry." It is pleasant for a woman who is truly in love to give herself without looking back and pretense, often with sublime generosity. However, it happens that a woman is forced to slightly torment the one she loves, since he belongs to the number of those men who cannot live without suffering and who are held back by doubt.

Then even a chaste, but in love woman is not ashamed to pretend to be a coquette, so as not to lose the affection of a man, just as a sister of mercy sometimes has to be ruthless in the interests of a patient. The injection is painful, but healing. Jealousy is painful, but it strengthens the feeling. If you, my stranger, ever let me know you, don't be a coquette. Otherwise, I will certainly get caught in the net, like everyone else. Farewell.

About the lady who knows everything

- How! Are you my neighbor, doctor?

“Yes, one of your two neighbors, madame.

“I'm delighted, doctor; I haven't been able to talk to you for a long time.

– I am also very happy.

- I need to get a lot of advice from you, doctor ... This will not be a burden to you?

“To tell you the truth, sir…

- First of all, my insomnia ... Do you remember what kind of insomnia I have? But what do I see, doctor? Are you taking soup?

- Why not?

- Yes, you're crazy! There is nothing more unhealthy than the flow of liquid at the beginning of a meal ...

- Forgive me, ma'am...

- Put this strong broth away, doctor, I beg you, and let's study the menu together ... Salmon is good ... there are a lot of proteins in fish. Poulard too ... Well, well, we will get the vitamin A we need with oil; vitamin C - with fruit ... There is no vitamin B at all ... What a shame! Don't you find it, doctor?

- No, there is no trial.

- Tell me, doctor, how many calories does a woman who, like me, lead an active lifestyle, need daily?

“I won’t say for sure, madam… It doesn’t matter at all.

How does it not matter? You will probably also say that coal is of no importance for a steam locomotive, and gasoline for a car! .. I lead the same lifestyle as men, and I need three thousand calories, otherwise I will become sick.

“Do you count them, madame?”

- Do I count them! .. You must be joking, doctor? .. I always have a table with me ... ( Opens the bag.) Look, doctor ... Ham - one thousand seven hundred and fifty calories per kilogram ... Chicken - one thousand five hundred ... Milk - seven hundred ...

- Perfect. But how do you know how much this chicken wing weighs?

- At home, I demand that all portions be weighed. Here, at a party, I estimate by eye ... ( She lets out a scream.) Oh, doctor!

"What's the matter with you, madame?"

- I beg you, stop! .. This is as unbearable as the grinding of a knife, like a false note, like ...

“What have I done, madame?”

– Doctor, you are mixing proteins with carbohydrates… Ah, doctor, stop!..

- Eh! Jester take me, I eat what they serve me ...

- You! The famous doctor! .. But you know very well, doctor, that the usual meal of an ordinary Frenchman - a steak with potatoes - is the most dangerous poison that you can cook!

“Nevertheless, the ordinary Frenchman is in good health…”

- Doctor, you are a real heretic ... I don’t talk to you anymore ... ( Hardly audible.) And who is my other neighbor? I've heard his last name, but he's unfamiliar to me.

“He is an important official from the Treasury, ma'am.

- Truth? How interesting! ( Turns vigorously to the right.) How is our budget, sir? Have you already made ends meet?

- Oh, madam, have mercy ... I talked for eight hours today about the budget ... And I hoped that at least at dinner I would get a respite.

- A break! .. We will give it to you when you settle our affairs ... And it's so simple.

"So simple, madame?"

- It's as easy as shelling pears ... Our budget is four trillion?

- Yes, that's about it...

“Excellent… Cut all expenses by twenty percent…”

(The doctor and the financier, like accomplices, exchange a look of despair behind the know-it-all lady.)

You, my dear, have the good sense not to know anything. That's why you're all guessing. Farewell.

About a young girl

“Conquer a man…” she says. - But a woman is not given to conquer. She is a passive being. She is waiting for tender confessions ... Or hurtful words. It's not for her to take the initiative.

“You describe appearance, not reality,” I object. - Bernard Shaw wrote a long time ago that if a woman is waiting for tender confessions, then just like a spider is waiting for a fly.

“A spider spins a web,” she replies, “what do you think a poor girl should do?” She either likes it or she doesn't. If she does not like her, her pathetic efforts are not able to transform the feelings of a man. I think she will rather achieve the opposite: nothing irritates a young man so much as the claims of a girl to whom he is indifferent. A woman who imposes herself and takes the first step will achieve the contempt of a man, but not his love.

“That would be true,” I say, “if the woman acted clumsily and it was obvious that the initiative came from her; but the art lies precisely in taking the first steps imperceptibly. “She runs under the canopy of weeping willows, but wants to be seen ...” Retreating, lure the enemy - this is an old, proven military trick, she served both the girls and the soldiers a lot.

“It is indeed a well-tried cunning,” she agrees, “but if the enemy does not have the slightest desire to pursue me, my flight will not lead to anything, I will remain alone under the canopy of weeping willows.

“This is where you women should try to arouse in a man the desire to persecute you. A whole tactic has been developed for this, and you know it better than I do. You need to allow him something, pretend that he greatly interests you, then suddenly “break everything” and resolutely forbid him what he considered to be firmly won only yesterday. A contrast shower is a harsh shake, but under it both love and desire grow by leaps and bounds.

“It’s easy for you to say,” she objected, “but such tactics presuppose, firstly, the composure of the one who puts the plan into execution (and how to test a person whose voice makes you tremble?); secondly, it is necessary that the man under test has already begun to pay attention to us. Otherwise, roll a ball of thread as much as you want, the kitten refuses to play.

“I will never believe,” I say, “that a young and pretty girl cannot make a man pay attention to her; To begin with, it is enough to start talking about him. Most representatives of the stronger sex boast of their specialty. Patiently listen to their rantings about the profession and about themselves - this is enough for them to consider you smart and feel a desire to see you again.

- So, you need to be able to get bored?

“Well, yes,” I confirm. “That goes without saying. Whether it concerns men or women, love or politics, the one who knows how to be bored will succeed in this world.

“Well, then I prefer not to succeed,” my interlocutor remarks.

“So do I,” I agree, “and, God knows, we will succeed in this.

Here's a conversation, querida Dear (Spanish)., happened to me yesterday with one young girl. Nothing to do about! After all, you were not around, but you still need to live. Farewell.

About the male half of the human race

The other day I read an article in an American newspaper that would have amused you. In it, one American woman addresses her sisters, women. “Are you complaining,” she writes, “that you cannot find a husband? You don't have that irresistible beauty that Hollywood, alas, has drawn our men to? Do you lead a secluded life, are you rarely in society? In a word, you have almost no familiar men, and those among whom your chosen one could be do not pay attention to you?

Let me give you some tips that have been very helpful to me. I believe that you, like many of us, live in a small cottage; around - a lawn, nearby - other similar houses. There are no doubt a few bachelors in your neighborhood.

- Well, of course! you tell me. “But they don’t care about me.”

- Well well! This is where my first piece of advice comes in. Attach a ladder to the wall of your house; climb onto the roof and start installing a television antenna. That's enough. Immediately, all the men living around will rush to you, like hornets attracted by a pot of honey. Why? Because they love technology, they love to make something, because they all consider themselves skillful and skillful ... and most importantly, because it gives them great pleasure to show their superiority to a woman.

- No! they will tell you. - You don't know how to do it. Let me do it...

Of course, you agree and look with delight at how they work. Here are your new friends, who are also grateful to you for giving them a chance to shine.

For mowing the lawn, - continues the American, - I have a roller with an electric motor; I can easily manage it, moving along the lawn. As long as everything is in order, not a single man appears on the horizon. As soon as I want the neighbors to be interested in me, there is nothing easier - I disable the engine and pretend to be anxiously looking for the cause of the breakdown. Immediately, one man appears to my right, armed with tongs, and another to my left, with a box of tools in his hands. Here are our mechanics and in the trap.

The same game on the freeway. Stop, lift the hood of the car and lean over the candles with a confused look. Other hornets, hungry for praise, will in turn stop and offer you their invaluable services. Keep in mind, however, that changing a wheel or inflating a tire is an unattractive task for them. This work, although not cunning, is laborious and does not bode well. And for a man, the ruler of the world, the most important thing is to show his omnipotence in front of humble women. How many suitable suitors roll along the roads alone and, without knowing it, want only one thing - to find a life partner like you - simple-hearted, ignorant and ready to admire them! The road to the heart of a man, like milestones, is marked by cars.

I think these tips are really helpful when it comes to Americans. Will they be equally effective in relation to the French? I think no; but we have our vulnerabilities. We like to delight with speeches and sonorous phrases. Ask for professional advice from a financier, politician, a scientist is one of the ways to conquer a man, and it is also designed for the indestructible vanity of the male half of the human race. Skiing lessons, swimming lessons are excellent snares for male athletes.

Goethe once noted that there is nothing more attractive than the occupation of a young man with a girl: she likes to learn, and teach him. This is true to this day. How many novels are tied up for translations from Latin or for solving a problem in physics, when the fluffy hair of a young student touches the cheek of her young mentor! Ask to be explained to you a complex philosophical problem, listen to the explanation with a thoughtful look, turning your head in the way that suits you especially, then heartily say that you understand everything - who can resist this! In France, the way to a man's heart is through his mind. Will I find my way to your heart? Farewell.

About love and marriage in France

To better understand the views of the French and French women on love and marriage, we must first recall the history of tender feelings in our country. It is easy to detect two currents in it.

The first, powerful current is sublime love. It was in France in the Middle Ages that courtly love was born. Worship of a woman, the desire to please her, composing songs and poems (troubadours) or performing feats (knights), are integral features of the elite of French society of that time. No other literature has given such importance to love and passion.

However, along with this trend, there was a second, very common one. Rabelais describes it. Love carnal, sensual appears here close-up. At the same time, marriage is more likely a matter of not feelings, but only a convenient form of living together, allowing you to raise children and observe mutual interests. Moliere, for example, has a husband - a little funny character, whom the wife, if she can, deceives and who himself is looking for love affairs on the side.

In the 19th century, the dominance of the wealthy bourgeoisie, which gave great value money and their inheritance, led to the fact that the marriage turned into a deal, as can be seen from the books of Balzac. In such a marriage, love could be born later - in the course of life together - from the mutual duties of the spouses, due to the similarity of temperaments, but this was not considered necessary. There were also successful marriages that arose on the basis of sober calculation. Parents and notaries agreed on dowry and conditions marriage contract before the young people got to know each other.

Today we have changed all that. Wealth no longer plays a decisive role in choosing a life partner, since an educated wife who serves, or a husband with a good profession, are valued incomparably more than a dowry, whose value can plummet. Sublime feelings, craving for romantic love- the legacy of past centuries - also lost their former power. Why? Firstly, because a woman, having achieved equality, ceased to be an inaccessible, mysterious deity for a man, but became a comrade; secondly, because young girls now know a lot about the physical side of love and look at love and marriage more truly and sensibly.

It cannot be said that young men and women do not strive for love at all; but they are looking for her in a solid marriage. They are wary of marriage for passionate love, because they know that passion is short-lived. In Molière's time, marriage marked the end of love. Today, he is just the beginning. The successful union of two today is closer than ever, for it is at the same time the union of flesh, soul and intellect. In Balzac's time, a husband in love with his wife was considered ridiculous. Today there is more depravity in the pages of novels than in life. current world life is not simple, life requires full dedication from both men and women, and therefore more and more marriage, sealed by friendship, mutual attraction and emotional affection, seems to French women the best solution to the problem of love. Farewell.

On the Relativity of Unhappiness

A woman to whom I am very attached tore her velvet dress yesterday. The whole evening lasted a painful drama. First of all, she could not understand how this wide transverse tear had arisen. She admitted that the skirt was too tight even when walking ... And yet, how cruel fate is! After all, it was her most charming outfit, the last of those that she decided to order the famous tailor. The trouble was irreparable.

“Why not darn it?”

Oh, those men! They don't understand anything. After all, the seam immediately catches the eye.

– Buy some black velvet and replace the strip across the entire width.

- Well, what are you talking about! Two pieces of velvet of the same color always differ slightly in shade. The black velvet that has been in the sock takes on a greenish sheen. It will be terrible. All my friends will immediately notice everything, and there will be no end to gossip.

- Michelangelo was able to take advantage of the veins and cracks in the block of marble that he received for sculpture. He turned these flaws in the material into an additional source of beauty. Let this hole inspire you too. Be creative, put a piece of a completely different fabric here. They will think that you did it on purpose, and this will cause admiration.

- What naivete! A detail that contradicts the whole will not offend the eye only if some trim of the same tone and style reminds of it elsewhere - on the lapels of the jacket, on the collar or on the belt. But this lonely streak ... Absurdity! And how can I wear a darned dress?

In a word, I had to agree that the trouble was irreparable. And then the comforter gave way to the moralist.

- Let it be! I exclaimed. “And there was an accident. But at least agree that this is not the worst of troubles. Is your dress torn? Please accept the assurances of my deepest sympathy, but consider that you may have had your belly ripped or your face cut during car accident; think about the fact that you could catch pneumonia or get poisoned, but health is more important to you than clothes; think about the fact that you could lose not a velvet dress, but several friends at once; Finally, think about the fact that we live in a formidable time, that a war can break out and then you can be detained, thrown into prison, deported, killed, torn to pieces, incinerated. Remember that in 1940 you lost not some rags, but everything you had, and met this misfortune with courage that I still admire ...

- What are you getting at?

- Just to the fact that human life is difficult, velvet is torn, and people die, which is very sad, but you must understand that there are different kinds of misfortunes. “I will gladly take the protection of their needs into my own hands,” said Montaigne, “but I do not want these needs to sit in my liver or stand across my throat.” He meant: “I, the mayor of the city of Bordeaux, will gladly undertake to repair the damage caused to your treasury. But I don’t want to ruin my health by killing myself over this.” These words are quite applicable to your case. I will gladly pay for a new dress, but I refuse to consider the loss as a national or universal catastrophe.

Do not turn upside down, my unknown friend, the pyramid of sorrows and do not put on the same board a burnt cake, leaky stockings, persecution of innocent people and a civilization that is under threat. Farewell.

About children's impressionability

Too often adults live next to the world of children without trying to understand it. And the child, meanwhile, closely observes the world of his parents; he tries to comprehend and appreciate it; phrases carelessly uttered in the presence of the baby are picked up by him, interpreted in his own way and create a certain picture of the world, which will remain in his imagination for a long time. One woman says in front of her eight-year-old son, "I'm more of a wife than a mother." By this, unwittingly, she, perhaps, inflicts a wound on him that will bleed for almost his entire life.

Exaggeration? I don't think. The pessimistic view of the world that a child developed in childhood may change for the better in the future. But this process will proceed painfully and slowly. On the contrary, if parents succeeded at that time, when the child's consciousness is just awakening, inspire him with faith in the gentleness and responsiveness of people, they thereby helped their sons or daughters to grow up happy. Various events can then disappoint those who had a happy childhood, sooner or later they will face the tragic sides of life and the cruel sides of human nature. But against expectations, it is better to endure all kinds of hardships just the one whose childhood was serene and passed in an atmosphere of love and trust in others.

We pronounce phrases in front of children that we do not attach importance to, but they seem to them to be complete. hidden meaning. A teacher once told me this story. She asked her little student, "Open the curtains, let the light come into our room." She froze in indecision.

- I'm afraid…

– Are you afraid? And why?

“But you see… I read in the Holy Scriptures that as soon as Rachel gave birth to Benjamin, she immediately died.

One boy constantly heard how they called the mantel clock in their house "Marie Antoinette", and the furniture in the living room - "Louis the Sixteenth", and decided that this clock was called Marie Antoinette, just like his own name is François. One can imagine what bizarre images will arise in his imagination when, at the very first lessons French history names that denoted objects for him household items, mixed with bloody and sad events.

How many unspoken apprehensions, how many unimaginable concepts are swarming in children's heads! I remember that when I was five or six years old, a theater troupe came to our town on tour and posters with the name of the play “Divorce Surprises” were pasted everywhere. I didn’t know then what the word “divorce” meant, but a vague premonition told me that this was one of those forbidden, attractive and dangerous words that lifted the veil over the secrets of adults. And on the very day when this troupe arrived, the city hairdresser, in a fit of jealousy, fired several times from a revolver at his wife. This incident was told to me. How then did the connection between these two facts so far from each other arise in my childish consciousness? I don't remember exactly. But for a very long time I thought that divorce is such a crime when a husband kills his guilty wife, and that it is done right in front of the audience on the stage of the theater in Pont de l'Her.

Of course, even the most sensitive parents are unable to prevent the birth of supernatural ideas and naive guesses in the minds of their children. It is known that life experience is not so easily transferred, everyone independently learns the lessons of life, but beware of at least giving the child dangerous food for the imagination. We will save our children from difficult experiences if we always remember that they have a heightened curiosity and are much more impressionable than we are. This is a lesson for mothers. Farewell.

About the rules of the game

I don't know if you sometimes listen to the "Saturday Conversation" program on the radio. It involves Armand Salacru, Roland Manuel, André Chamson, Claude Mauriac and your humble servant. We talk about everything: about the theater, about book novelties, paintings by artists, concerts and about ourselves. In a word, this is a real conversation, not rehearsed in advance, such as five friends could have over a cup of coffee. I myself get real pleasure from it and every time I meet with joy in front of the microphone with my interlocutors. Alain used to say that friendship often arises due to circumstances: in the lyceum, in the regiment; these indispensable meetings also made us friends.

Recently, Claude Mauriac put forward a thesis that, in my opinion, is correct. “Courtly love, described in chivalric romances,” he said, “is a kind of game, the rules of which have not changed at all since the time of medieval treatises on love. They are the same in the works of the 17th century - in "Astrea", and in "Princess of Cleves", and in the works of romantics, although they are expressed there with more pathos; they also determine the actions and speeches of Swann in Marcel Proust. This tradition requires that lovers be jealous not only of the body, but also of each other's thoughts; so that the slightest cloud on the forehead of the beloved woke up the alarm; so that every phrase of a beloved being is carefully considered, and every act is interpreted; so that at the mere thought of treason a person turns pale. Molière laughed at such an expression of feelings; Proust pitied the sufferers; however, for several centuries, both writers and the reading public did not question the rules themselves. Nowadays, a new influence has emerged: young authors no longer accept the old rules of the game; this does not mean that they have lost interest in this topic, just that they have changed the set of rules. What kind of jealousy can we talk about when the female body is available for everyone to see on the beaches ... "

Here I interrupted Mauriac to quote one of Victor Hugo's letters to his fiancée, which indeed could not have been written today. In this letter, he severely reproaches her for the fact that, afraid of soiling her dress in the street, she slightly lifted it and involuntarily opened her ankle; this infuriated Hugo so much that he was able to kill a passerby who glanced at her snow-white stocking, or lay hands on himself. The rules of the game for young writers seem to be such that they completely exclude any kind of jealousy and allow you to talk cynically about the amorous adventures of the one you love. All this is in no way compatible with the requirements of courtly love. For this unique feeling, possible only “between two subscribers,” as telephone operators say, is the lot of only two.

In fact, in the second half modern novel lovers tend to discover love. They, as it were, reluctantly recognize the charm of fidelity, the sweetness of affection, and even the torment of jealousy. But more restrained than the heroes of the romantics and even Proust, they talk about their feelings with feigned indifference and a certain amount of irony, in any case, this is how it looks in words. They treat Cupid with humor. This whimsical combination is not without its charm.

Is this new? I'm not too sure about this. The rules of the game, from Madame de Lafayette to Louise Vilmorin, have never been so strict. The Anglo-Saxons long ago abandoned the open expression of their most ardent feelings.

Along with the tradition of courtly love, one can find another, coming from the Renaissance. Love stories in the works of Benvenuto Cellini and even Ronsard do not look too romantic. Other heroes of Stendhal or (today) Monterlane follow the rules of the Renaissance love game, and not medieval treatises on love. These rules have changed frequently and will continue to change in the future. I expect a new "Adolf" and a new "Svan" from the current young writer. And I promise him great success.

For if the rules of the game change, then the rate remains the same. This bet is you, my precious. Farewell.

Ability to use funny features

Have you noticed, stranger of my soul, that our shortcomings can please no less than our virtues? And sometimes even more? After all, virtues, elevating you, humiliate another, while flaws, allowing others to laugh at you without malice, raise them in their own eyes. A woman is forgiven for talkativeness - she is not forgiven for being right. Byron left his wife, whom he called the "princess of parallelograms", because she was too insightful and smart. The Greeks did not like Aristides precisely because everyone called him the Just.

In his work The Facts Seen, Victor Hugo talks about a certain Mr. de Salvandi, whose political career was brilliant. He became a minister, academician, envoy, was awarded the Grand Cross of the Order of the Legion of Honor. You will say: all this is not God knows what; but he still enjoyed success with women, and this is already worth a lot. So, when this Salvandi first appeared in the world, where Mrs. Gail introduced him, the famous Sophie Gay exclaimed: “But, dear, there is so much funny in your dear young man! You need to take care of his manners." "God forbid! cried Mrs. Gail. - Do not deprive him of his originality! What will he have then? After all, it is precisely this that will lead him to success ... ”The future confirmed the correctness of Mrs. Gail.

Henri de Jouvenel once told me that in his youth, when he was a journalist, he was struck by the first steps in parliament of a deputy from Calvados, a certain Henri Cheron. This Sharon had a big belly, a beard, and he wore an old-fashioned frock coat; climbing onto the table, he loudly sang the "La Marseillaise" and uttered grandiloquent speeches. Clemenceau appointed him assistant minister of war, Cheron immediately began to go round the barracks and try the soldiers' food. Journalists made fun of him; Jouvenel thought it would be interesting to write an article about him and decided to see Sharon. He met him with a defiant air.

“I know, young man! he exclaimed. - You came to make sure that I'm funny ... Well, how? Have you made sure?.. Yes, I'm ridiculous... But I'm deliberately ridiculous, because - remember, young man - in this envious country to seem ridiculous is the only safe way become famous.

These words would delight Stendhal. But it is not necessary to seem ridiculous, you probably noticed that some quirks, an original manner of dressing bring a man or woman more fame than talent. Thousands of people who had never read André Gide in their lives were familiar with his Mexican felt hats and short raincoat. Winston Churchill - great orator, but he knew people well and was very skillful in playing with his outlandish hat, oversized cigars, bow ties, and V-shaped fingers. I knew someone French ambassador in London, who could not speak a word of English, but wore a polka dot tie tied with a magnificent bow, which unusually touched the British. And he kept his post for a long time.

Watch people eating at a restaurant. Who will be best served, who will be diligently courted by head waiters? A positive person, happy with everything? Not at all. A client with quirks. To be demanding means to interest people. Moral: keep yourself natural and, if you have it, a little picturesque. You will be grateful for this. Farewell.

Do you make scenes for your husband and friends, ma'am? Although you have the appearance of Minerva, I would be extremely surprised if you do not resort to them. The stage is a woman's favorite weapon. It allows them at once, through a short emotional outburst full of indignation, to achieve what they would have been asking in vain for months and years in a calm state. However, they must adjust to the man they are dealing with.

There are such excitable men who enjoy quarrels and can outdo even a woman with their behavior. The same vehemence comes through in their responses. Such quarrels do not do without mutual rudeness. After the scandal, the intensity weakens, both of them feel lighter in their souls and reconciliation can be quite gentle. I know quite a few women who, while making scenes, are not afraid of beatings. They even secretly crave them, but they will never admit it. “Well, what if I like to be beaten?” - here is the key to this incomprehensible riddle. For women who appreciate in a man, first of all, strength - spiritual and bodily - the slap in the face that they rolled only warms up the feeling.

- What an abomination! you exclaim. “A man who raised his hand against me would cease to exist for me.

You sincerely think so, but to be completely sure you would need to test yourself. If your disgust is confirmed, it means that pride in you is stronger than sensuality.

A normal man hates scenes. They put him in a humiliating position, because in doing so, as a rule, he loses the initiative. And can a balanced spouse successfully resist an angry Pythia, who from her tripod brings down a stream of abuse on him? Many men, as soon as the storm breaks, prefer to retire or, having unfolded the newspaper, cease to pay attention to what is happening.

It should be remembered that a poorly played scene quickly gets bored.

The very word scene explains a lot to us. It is borrowed from the actors. To be effective, it must be masterfully played. Starting with trifles, only because the accumulated irritation required an outlet, the scene should gradually gain strength, feeding on all the painful memories, replenishing with long-standing grievances, filling everything around with sobs. Then - at the right moment - a turning point should occur: the moaning subsided, they were replaced by thoughtfulness and quiet sadness, the first smile had already appeared, and the crown of everything was an explosion of voluptuousness.

“But in order to act out a scene like that, a woman must act according to a premeditated plan and control herself all the time ...

You are right, ma'am. There's nothing to be done - theater! A talented actress is constantly aware of what she says and does. The best scenes are those that are intentionally staged and subtly acted out. Not only women master this art. Outstanding commanders - Napoleon, Lyauté - rarely fell into anger, only when they considered it necessary. But even then their fury crushed all obstacles! Liauté, in a fit of rage, threw his marshal's cap to the ground and trampled on it. On days like these he used to say to his orderly in the morning:

Give me my old cap.

Take an example from him. Save your indignation for important occasions: be the shepherd of your tears. Scenes are only effective when they are rare. In countries where thunderstorms rumble almost every day, no one pays attention to them. I won't use myself as an example. By nature, I am not easily irritable, but once or twice a year I lose my temper when too outrageous injustice or absurdity deprives me of my usual calmness. On such days, everyone around me yields. Surprise is one of the keys to victory. Fewer scenes, ma'am, but with more brilliance! Farewell.

About the golden nail

Finally you answered me! Oh, without naming yourself, of course. The stranger is still a stranger to me. But now at least I know your handwriting, and I like it. Straight, clear, legible letters - the handwriting of a decent person. And a decent woman? Maybe! But in your letter you ask me an unusual question.

“For five years now,” you write, “I have had a gentle and intelligent friend. He visits me almost every day, advises what books to read, what to watch in the theater, in a word, fills my leisure time in the most pleasant way. We never crossed the boundaries of friendship; I have no desire to become his mistress, but he achieves this, insists, simply torments me; he claims that I have more pride than passion, that he suffers unbearably, that he cannot go on like this any longer, and that he will eventually stop seeing me. Should we give in to this blackmail? The word is nasty, but accurate, because he knows perfectly well that I need his friendship. Apparently, he does not appreciate my friendship enough, since he is seeking something else? .. "

I don't know, ma'am, whether you have read Sainte-Beuve's The Nail of Gold. He wrote it to subdue a woman in relation to whom he was in the same position as your friend is in relation to you. A lovely young woman, slightly resembling Diana the huntress, who had no children, looked younger than her years, doomed him to torment, refusing the last gift of love; he sought by skillful arguments to achieve such a coveted favor. “To have, by the age of thirty-five or forty, if only once, a woman whom you have known and loved for a long time, is what I call hammering together the golden nail of friendship.”

Sainte-Beuve believed that tenderness, fastened with this "golden nail", then persists throughout life more reliably than a feeling based simply on gratitude, friendship, or community of interests. In support of his opinion, he cited the words of an excellent writer XVIII century: “After an intimacy that lasted some quarter of an hour, between two people who do not even love, but at least gravitate towards each other, such trust arises, such ease of communication, such tender attention to each other, which will not appear and after ten years of enduring friendship."

This problem of the "golden nail" is now before you, ma'am. As far as I understand, your friend puts the question in the same way as Sainte-Beuve put it in the time of Sophie Loiret d'Arbouville; a man really experiences tantalum torments when he encounters a coquette (perhaps not even aware of this), who constantly promises him bliss, but leaves him hungry. And yet I do not believe in the "golden nail". The first experience is rarely the best. So you need a whole board studded with similar nails.

In truth, if your friend were suffering as much as he claims, he would have overcome your resistance a long time ago. Women intuitively guess sensitive men with whom you can stay on a friendly footing. And although this surprises them a little (one Englishwoman explained the essence of platonic love: “She is trying to understand what he wants, but he does not want anything”), yet they are quite satisfied and even abuse the situation. It is necessary, however, to appear to a real lover - and goodbye "friendly ghosts." From the day that Chateaubriand achieved his goal, Juliette Recamier belonged to him alone. For a long time she tried to keep the flowers of love intact, but later she became convinced that the fruits are good. If you can, take a useful lesson from this. The best oracles spoke in riddles. Farewell.

About the arrival of the lecturer

Do you think it's him?

- Sure.

He doesn't look like a writer, though.

- He looks like a concerned person ... He is looking for us ... Hello, dear master.

- BUT! Hello... Are you Mr. Bernard?

- He is. And this is my wife… She still didn’t want to believe that you are you… You seem older than in the photographs… Didn’t the trip tire you too much?

“Tired like a dog… A whole day on the road… Dubious lunch… In a word… But I still have two whole hours before the start of the lecture, so I’ll have time to rest.”

- Suppose you don’t have two hours ... Before taking you to the hotel, I would like to show you the hall ... You will be pleased to see it.

“Really, no… After all, it won’t make him feel any better…”

- Extremely upset, dear master, but we need to look there. I made an appointment with Mr. Blavsky, the owner of the cinema; he is waiting for us... And Mr. Blavsky is an unusually touchy person... Besides, dear master, it would be better if I explained something to you on the spot... Our hall is large, but the acoustics in it are not very good... You should speak very loudly and stay near table, slightly turned to the left ...

“I hope at least your stage is heated, I recently had the flu, and my doctor…”

- Unfortunately no. There is central heating, of course, but it does not work ... However, when the hall is full, it heats up quickly ... Unfortunately, there will not be too many of us tonight.

- Did you sell a few tickets?

- Very little, dear master ... Only twenty-five or thirty ... But do not worry; when I found out about this misfortune, I had free admission tickets sent to schools and barracks so that the hall would not seem so empty.

- Are you always like this?

- Oh no, dear master, it happened that lectures were held with great success ... However, this evening in concert hall Jacques Thibault plays in the city hall, and in the Municipal Theater they give "Hard Times" performed by the Baret troupe touring here ... So the lecture, of course ...

- Couldn't you have previously agreed with the organizers of the concerts and with the director of the theater?

– It’s a question of politics in some way, dear master… You know what local feuds are… One way or another, we still wouldn’t have gathered a lot of people… The topic of the lecture – Stendhal’s Novels – attracts few people… I wouldn’t like you upset, dear master, but you must admit ... No, in our places they like lectures on other topics, for example, "Song in 1900" with listening to records, or, say, "Love in Turkey" ... However, I have no doubt that everything will be fine and those who come will not regret it... But for our society it is somewhat expensive, because it is not rich.

The real name of the man known to readers all over the world as André Maurois is Emil Solomon Wilhelm Erzog. This is a famous French writer, literary critic, historian; he is recognized as an unsurpassed master of writing biographies of famous people in the form of a novel. The creative pseudonym after some time turned into his official name.

When the First World War broke out, André Mauroy took part in the hostilities as a liaison officer and military translator. The impressions received in the war helped Morois try his hand at the literary field and became the basis for his first novel, The Silent Colonel Bramble. After its publication in 1918, Maurois learned what success was, and his fame immediately went beyond the borders of his native country, the work was warmly received in Great Britain and America.

After the end of the war, André Maurois worked at the editorial office of the Croix de Feu magazine. Inspired by the success of his first novel, the aspiring writer dreamed not of a magazine career, but of a professional literary career. Already in 1921, his new novel, The Speeches of Dr. O'Grady, saw the light of day. When his father died, Morois, having sold the production, from 1925 gave all his strength to the creation of literary works. For 20-30 years. he wrote a trilogy about the lives of the famous English representatives of romanticism - Shelley, Disraeli and Byron. He also wrote a number of other novels. On June 23, 1938, a significant event took place in the life of Maurois: his literary merits were recognized by his election to the French Academy.

The writer worked to a ripe old age. In the year of his 80th birthday, he wrote a novel, which became the last in a series of biographical works - Prometheus, or the Life of Balzac (1965). Literally a few days before his death, the last point was put in his memoirs.

The contribution of Andre Maurois to national literature is truly great - two hundred books, as well as more than a thousand articles. He was a multi-genre writer, from his pen came out not only biographies of great people that glorified him, but also fantastic novels, psychological stories, novels, philosophical essays, historical works, popular science writings. Morois was elected an honorary doctor of the Oxford and Edinburgh universities, was a Knight of the Legion of Honor (1937). The writer also led a fairly active social life, was a member of several public organizations, collaborated with publications of a democratic orientation.

Death overtook Andre Maurois in his own house, located in one of the suburbs of Paris, on October 9, 1967.

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